Sacrifices
by Bad Faery
Summary: Glitch reflects on the sacrifices he's made.
1. Prologue

"It wasn't such a sacrifice," he murmured, closing his eyes and reveling in DG's embrace. He'd kept them safe, or as safe as they could be. If he'd shared his secret, Azkadellia would have destroyed the O.Z. long ago. As it was… well, she was going to destroy the O.Z. anyway, but at least now they had a chance.

The queen he'd adored with simple, unquestioning loyalty was still alive somewhere because he hadn't told. DG, the child he'd loved with a fierce devotion, had grown up, safe, because he'd held his tongue.

DG was a child no longer, and no matter how hard he tried, his scrambled thoughts couldn't hold onto the idea that he'd played with her when she was young, spent hours concocting elaborate toys to make her smile and take her mind off of the darkness that permeated the palace. She'd gone away, and he'd missed her shining light, even though he hadn't known that was what he was missing until the grown-up DG smiled at him, bringing hope back to the world. Then he'd known only that he needed her, although he couldn't have said why.

When he felt her lips brush gently against his head, just to the left of the zipper, then he understood why. She wasn't for him though, even his muddled brain knew that. Old enough to be her fath- favorite uncle, odd- looking at best, and now quite literally a half-wit. No, DG wasn't for him. Not with Cain around to look after her.

He still got to talk with her, put his arm around her, protect her as best he could. He could even offer her comfort about her mother, even if he couldn't give her a name. "She was happy to make the sacrifices she thought were necessary. Everyone should love someone that much."

He understood now about sacrifices in a way he hadn't when the queen told him about the choice she'd made. He'd given up his most prized possession- his intellect- because their safety was paramount. Now he was giving up something even more valuable as he watched DG take her place at Cain's side, and he couldn't regret it, because her happiness mattered most.

In the end, it wasn't such a sacrifice at all.


	2. Chapter 1

Author's Note: While the story overall is DG/ Glitch(Ambrose), this part is Ambrose-centric. I hope no one minds; I wanted to explore his past a bit. We'll get back to DG in chapter three.

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When he was seventeen years old, there was a knock on the door.

Even in the depths of Quadling Country the royal crest was instantly recognizable, and his first response was panic. Sure he'd caused a few explosions and maybe doubling the growth cycle of some of the fighting trees hadn't been quite as well thought- out as it should have been, but it wasn't as though he'd done anything really _wrong_. He'd certainly done nothing that would justify royal action being taken against him, no matter what the neighboring farmer said about his tool shed. He'd improved them really; the old man had no reason to complain.

"He's done nothing!" his father was insisting in a voice somewhere between deference and defensiveness when Ambrose obediently joined his parents who were sitting with the queen's messengers in the closest thing to a visiting parlor their small home could offer. He sat down, awkwardly arranging his lanky form in a straight- backed wooden chair which was the only one left free. His posture ramrod stiff, he waited for the manacles to appear.

Instead, they offered him a job.

His parents had been delighted- what an honor to be selected to work for the queen herself. He'd be happier in Central City, they told him. There'd be people there who understood him.

It was the last that had decided him, the only thing that could have persuaded him to leave the only home he'd ever known to live among strangers. His parents loved him, but as they frequently told him, they hadn't understood a single word he'd said since he was four years old. He saw things differently than other people did, and his tendency to babble on about his latest idea or invention to the nearest available ear had won him no friends. In Central City, he would be an outcast no longer.

So, he'd gone.

Part of it was a dream come true. In the queen's palace he had all the materials and equipment he'd ever need, and people praised him for his inventions instead of shaking their heads and whispering behind his back. He was a valuable member of court. The queen told him that often. He just wished he had someone to talk to.

His title- Chief Science Advisor to the queen- wasn't quite as illustrious as it sounded since he was also her _only_ science advisor. She told him that he was such a genius that she needed no one else. It was good to be appreciated. There was no reason to want to go home.

He wrote to his parents weekly, promising to visit soon, letting them know what a success he was becoming. They were very proud.

He kept a bag packed at all times, ready for the trip that he shouldn't be looking forward to so desperately. In the end though, there was always another project that needed to be started or finished that simply couldn't wait. He was too important. He couldn't be spared.

He never saw his family again.


	3. Chapter 2

On the younger princess's second birthday, he unpacked the bag. After almost three years of living at the palace, he finally admitted that he was there to stay.

It was a simple thing, really. He'd made her a dollhouse, a miniature recreation of the palace, out of the bits of metal he always seemed to have around. He'd polished it neatly until it gleamed like the palace itself and fretted for three days straight about whether it was an appropriate gift for a princess. The morning of her birthday party, he'd made some minor adjustments and added a mechanism to play a song each time she opened the palace doors. He'd felt a bit better about it after that but had been well aware that in the sea of gifts she'd receive, his would be scarcely worthy of mention.

It was her favorite.

Amid all the glorious toys that had come from all across the O.Z., she'd had eyes only for his gift, racing to get her most precious dolls to introduce them to their new home. He'd pushed his chair back against the wall, trying to disappear, nervous that he'd overstepped his position by inadvertently upstaging the more important guests. Queen Lavender had only smiled however.

He'd been so busy scanning the room, looking for signs of disapproval, that when he felt a hand touch his knee, he'd nearly jumped out of his skin. Jerking his head up, he saw nothing. Another insistent touch brought his gaze down, and he found himself looking into a mischievous pair of blue eyes.

"Princess," he murmured, automatically ducking his head out of respect. The princess seemed to view this as an invitation and promptly climbed into his lap, arranging herself comfortably and leaning back against his chest.

"Thank you," she said clearly, every bit as regal as her mother and older sister. Then, mission complete, she began to regale him with stories about her dolls, sister, favorite spots in the palace, and dog. The stories were long and more than a little incomprehensible, but a strange thing happened as she spoke: slowly, as she prattled on he felt himself beginning to relax. The tension left his shoulders and he leaned back into his chair, taking the princess with him.

Thirty minutes later, he discovered he'd wrapped his arms around her, holding her as naturally as though she were his own child. When she finally ran out of things to say, he took his own turn, describing the invention he was currently working on. She couldn't possibly understand anything he was saying, but she listened attentively, smiling when he did and sharing his joy in creation.

A hour later they were stretched out on the floor of the ballroom, exploring the dollhouse together and deciding on the most appropriate sleeping arrangements for the dolls.

Five minutes later he realized the king and queen were looking down at the two of them, laughing. He stiffened, but before he could move or apologize, it dawned on him that there was no mockery in their tone- only delight. Then DG tugged impatiently on his sleeve and he returned his attention to the task at hand.

Three hours later when the party had ended and DG was in bed, he unpacked the bag.

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The next time the royal family moved their household from Central City to the Ice Palace, Ambrose was invited to join them. It was truly an invitation; there wasn't a hint of royal command in the suggestion. It was his choice whether to abandon his lab and everything familiar to journey to the ice fields.

However, when DG raced up to him in one of the corridors, climbing him like a tree until he picked her up, and asked if he was coming, he realized that he'd never really had a choice at all. He supposed this was what love was- being willing to give up anything, just to make someone smile.

He could always set up a new lab anyway. Perhaps this one would be neater.


	4. Chapter 3

Getting the new lab organized was an arduous task. He spent months trying to get the equipment arranged and functioning properly, and by the time he was finally comfortable, it was even more of a mess than the original. He'd forgotten more than one important component and designing work- arounds, although possible, added weeks to several projects.

He didn't regret it for an instant.

As he gently tossed a snowball at DG, getting hit himself by a solidly- thrown projectile from Azkadellia's direction, he decided there was something rather odd about his life. He lived in the midst of a frozen wilderness. He spent all of his time inventing machines to do impossible things, and his best friend in the entire O.Z. was a two year old girl. Odd. But wonderful.

Four years passed with ludicrous speed. His friendship with DG, far from angering the queen, seemed to have increased her trust in him, and he found himself being drawn more and more into the innermost workings of the realm, discovering to his surprise that if he pictured the O.Z. as one large machine, it was easy to see patterns and predict problems that could be solved before they became crises.

He marked time by small milestones. DG's birthdays, obviously, were one of the most important if only because of the sheer number of hours he spent constructing her presents. The Queen once teasingly accused him of starting on her present for the next year before he'd finished the current one, and she wasn't exactly wrong. Yet it was worth the sleepless nights and eyestrain to see the look of delight on his princess's face.

There were other moments that indicated the passing years. There was the first time DG helped with an experiment instead of just playing while he worked. At first she simply handed him tools, then they discovered that her tiny hands were exactly the right size to attach some of the more dainty components of the machines. Later, when she'd outgrown the task, they found that her magic could do the job as well as her fingers could. For the first time in his life, he had a partner.

The first time DG managed to pronounce both syllables of his name had overjoyed him at the same moment it broke his heart. When she was two, he'd started out as 'bose, and she'd gradually added letters until finally, five days after her fourth birthday he was officially Ambrose to her. She'd been so proud of herself for finally saying it right, and he'd been delighted for her even as he mourned the loss of the childish nickname. His princess was growing up, and even though he grew to love her more each day as her personality developed, he couldn't help but worry that someday she'd outgrow him.

For the time being, that dreadful day was a long way off. At age six, DG spent more time in his lab than she did anywhere else to the occasional despair of her tutor who would've liked her to spend more time practicing her magic than tinkering with the odd bits and pieces around Ambrose's lab. Queen Lavender refused to intervene, saying only that any knowledge was valuable, and perhaps one day DG would need the mechanical ability she was picking up from him every bit as much as she'd need her magic.

He'd never been happier.

Together they danced through life- inventing, experimenting, playing, pretending. The sun always shone; the winds were brisk without being bitter, and the icy walls of the palace glittered like diamonds. Life was blissfully, impossibly perfect. Even the genuine annoyances- an invention that stubbornly refused to work or Azkadellia's early slide into sullen teenage angst- were somehow remote. It was impossible to believe that anything could ever truly go wrong.

He should have known better than to tempt the gods.

They'd just returned to Central City, and he was spending the afternoon puzzling over the issue of how to extend the growing season, while DG was in the gardens with her governess, Gilly, running off some excess energy before her magic lesson. The sharp knock at the door that preceded a summons to attend on the queen was hardly unusual, but the pallor in the page's face was. There was an edge of barely-concealed panic in the boy's face, but he would answer none of Ambrose's questions, only hurry him on his way to the throne room.

"She's gone, Ambrose," were the first words out of the queen's mouth, and simple as they were, it took him an eternity to process them. Only one person's loss could put that look of despair on the queen's face. "Someone took her."

The blood drained from his face, leaving him alarmingly light- headed. "That's impossible," he managed to murmur. The man for whom 'impossible' was merely a temporary irritation now clung to it like a lifeline. It was impossible that DG was gone. He was nearly finished with her birthday present, he thought irrelevantly. She'd like it; he knew she would. She had to be there so he could give it to her.

"Gilly... she says someone struck her from behind. She heard DG screaming... then she was just... gone." The queen's halting explanation dragged his mind back to the present moment, and none of this made any sense. The palace grounds were extensive, but they weren't _that_ large and DG had a positive gift for making herself heard. Someone would have heard her screams and come running. No one could simply _take_ her. Why _would_ anyone?

"We have to find her," he announced as though she wouldn't have thought of it herself, striding toward the main hall without waiting to be dismissed. He'd scour every inch of the city, crawl on his knees if he had to until she was found and safe once more. She had to be safe. Nothing else bore thinking about.

"Ambrose!" The queen's sharp voice halted him in his tracks, long years of answering to that voice making it impossible to ignore now. "Every tin man in the city is already looking for her," she said more gently, once he'd turned to face her.

It wasn't good enough. They didn't know her like he did, wouldn't recognize her as quickly. She'd be frightened, taken from one stranger by another. She needed _him_, not some faceless lawman she'd never met. "There must be something you can make, some way to trace her," Queen Lavender pleaded, and for the first time he managed to look past his own pain long enough to see the anguish in her eyes. He'd lost his best friend, but she'd lost her daughter. He wasn't the only one suffering right now.

"Yes, majesty," he bowed slightly, forcing himself away from the doorway as he withdrew one of his ever- present notebooks, riffling through the pages until he found a blank one, willing his mind to come up with an idea- _any_ idea- anything he could use to find his princess.

The queen sank stiffly into her throne, as though utter stillness was the only thing keeping her from flying apart, and Ambrose reluctantly took a seat himself, his brilliant mind for once not answering his demands. There had to be something; there simply had to be. He just couldn't think. An idea occurred to him and he looked up sharply, "Majesty, your magic-"

"I can't," she whispered, not letting him finish, "It's as though... something's blocking me."

Chagrined, he turned his attention back to his notebook, willing the random lines he'd absentmindedly drawn to come together, to reveal their mystery, to help him _find her_.

In the end his efforts were as unnecessary as they were fruitless. Less than fifteen minutes after his world stopped turning, it lurched back into motion with a wild cry from the main hall.

"Majesty! Come quickly!" At the page's call, they looked at each other wordlessly for a long moment before leaping to their feet and breaking into a run, Ambrose unable to stay the requisite, respectful two paces behind her. He matched her step for step, terrified of what he'd discover in the main hall. Surely he'd know if anything had happened to DG. Surely the entire world would go dark if her light had been snuffed out.

Sheer, unadulterated relief nearly drove him to his knees at the sight of DG- ruffled, frightened, crying, but _alive_, thank Ozma, she was still alive and apparently unhurt- held in the arms of a tin man. It was only with effort that he managed to let the queen get to her first, struggling to pay attention to the lawman's account of hearing a child's cries and finding the princess fighting like a tiger to escape her captor less than half a mile outside the palace grounds.

"That's one brave little girl you've got," the tin man smiled down at the still-sobbing DG, now held safe in the queen's arms. Ambrose nodded, fidgeting anxiously just behind them, barely restraining himself from snatching DG out of her mother's embrace so he could hug her himself, verify that she was safe and truly back where she belonged.

As though sensing his desperation, DG's eyes blinked open, her tear-stained face brightening a little at the sight of him. "'brose!" she called his name, reverting to the childish nickname he hadn't heard in ages, as she held her hands out to him, struggling in the queen's arms. Reluctantly, she let her daughter go, and DG launched herself at him.

"I've got you, DG, I've got you," he murmured over and over, running his hands over her small body to check for injuries and finding none. Not hurt then, the tin man was right, they always were, just frightened, "You're safe. Nothing can hurt you now. I won't let anything hurt you."

"Mother? What happened?" Azkadellia's calm voice floated into the hall just ahead of the girl herself. He was too busy soothing DG's tears to pay much attention to the queen's explanation, but as her tale came to an end, he mentally prepared himself to release the now-calm girl so her sister could welcome her back. Glancing down at Azkadellia, he was surprised to see not shock or relief in her face, only that sulky expression she always seemed to wear now with a hint of- was that _anger_?- in her eyes.

A moment later the odd look was gone, and Azkadellia reached up to squeeze DG's hand, murmuring, "Welcome back, little sister. I'm glad you're safe."

Ambrose shook his head, dismissing the moment from his mind. As he carried DG off to bed, he half-heard the tin man's description of the man who'd taken his princess, "...strangest thing really... like he didn't even know he'd taken her or why... seemed to have no idea what had happened... like he'd been under a spell..."

Vapors, he decided as he tucked DG in. Even in the O.Z. there were malcontents, people who sought relief from their real or imagined problems through drugs. At the palace, they'd been overconfident, careless, too assured of the realm's peacefulness to anticipate anything like this.

Never again.

Ambrose spent the rest of the night on the floor of her bedroom, leaning against her bed and listening to her breathe, waiting to soothe her nightmares, ready to protect her if it happened again, although Ozma alone knew what he of all people could do in the face of an attack. Bore someone to death, maybe?

The next morning he presented himself to the head of the castle guard for training.


End file.
